


Like Poppies

by alezander



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bullying, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Rehabilitation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 18:06:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18266654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alezander/pseuds/alezander
Summary: His eyes were of the midday sky.Blue, brilliant and blinding.For a tantalizing moment I felt myself move as if to kiss him...





	Like Poppies

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I bring you "Like Poppies", written while listening to Tokyo Ghoul Root A's OST "Stand by..." It's a very beautiful track, so please listen to it. Submitted for YaoiOtaku's monthly BL writers' contest for the month of March 2019.
> 
> This piece flowed smoothly and was very enjoyable to write. I hope you have fun reading it as well. Have a wonderful day!

I wonder why he does that?

I'm not always up to something, and when I am, it's mostly not something good. More importantly, it's always got to do with him.

He is a soft fellow. Really, he is. There is a bounce in his step, sunshine in his eyes and gold in his hair. There always seems to be a tinkle of bells following him as the birds twitter their songs to him, and he laughs and smiles his radiant smile at them, his gentle fingers curled up to offer the creatures dainty crumbs.

I wouldn't say that we are friends. Rather, I'd say we are miserables lumped together. Or at least that was what I thought in the beginning. My parents disliked my rambunctious ways and lack of manners and his parents... well, they simply pretended he did not exist. Often in the past I told him how I'd kill to be in his shoes, but he only looked further down to hide his puny face and pulled his long sleeves to cover his small arms, never an utter leaving his broken lips. That was when I realized that perhaps he was truly unfortunate.

There was no school to go to, not out here in the countryside where farmer boys aren't expected to learn much. But we weren't men yet either, so to the outdoors we were thrown aside, out of the way. I was easily an irritable boy so I hated his silence and his seeming nonchalance when I regarded him. I called him names and played pranks on him, put beetles in his clothes and pushed him in the river. Nothing. He doesn't say a _damn_ thing.

Then one day, he spotted a low bush heavy with wild strawberries, their obstinate color as flushed as his cheeks. Without a word, he left my side and flung himself to them, unwary of the coil of red and yellow resting by the shade. My body sprung to action, and I pushed him out of the way before the snake could get to him. I felt him tremble beneath me and when I looked at him, he was crying, and for the first time I noticed that his eyes were of the midday sky. Blue, brilliant and blinding.

For a tantalizing moment I felt myself move as if to kiss him, when I caught myself.

 _What_...

"A-Are you... a-alright?" He asked, his voice quivering and rasped, like he hadn't spoken for a long time. Maybe he really didn't.

"Watch where you're going, moron." I growled, pushing myself off him. I pretended to inspect myself for injuries as I waited for my blood to relax.

"I-I'm s-sorry..." He stuttered. "Th-Thank you... um."

He began talking bit by bit after that until he recovered.

"It was all because of you." He said, the wind sending his hair and clothes aflutter, his fading bruises like stories on his skin.

I scoffed. "I practically bullied you. I didn't do anything." But I was actually swelling inside. Because of _me_?

"Mh. But you kept me company, and that was all I needed." He smiled, his blush like poppies on his cheeks.

"I was always up to no good." I said, stepping towards him.

"That you were." He laughed.

His laugh is beautiful.

"I wasn't exactly kind to you." Another step.

"True."

"So why do you forgive me?" I whispered, our noses touching. Wordlessly, he stands on tip toe and presses a soft kiss on my lips, one that left me breathless and burning for more.

Stepping away, he closed his eyes and turned his face to the wind, a knowing smile on his lips.

"I wonder why?

**Author's Note:**

> I have been reading the classic The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett and the childhood desire to have a garden of my own stirred me to write this little story. I ship Dickson and Mary so hard, like they just make me grin like a loon. And man, Colin is a bossy little rajah.
> 
> You know that feeling when you're in the middle of writing your thesis manuscript but you just gotta write that one short sweet story? Happens to me way too many times.


End file.
